


Sweet Cheeks

by CarlllGallaghrrr



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, there's some cake jokes if you find that funny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-03-31 09:27:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3972814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarlllGallaghrrr/pseuds/CarlllGallaghrrr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A week ago, the brothers had planned Mandy’s birthday party and decided who had to get what. Mickey had gotten stuck with the cake, but he hadn’t been too worried about it; how hard could it be to get a fucking cake? Except Mickey had completely forgotten, and now here he was, the day before the party, standing outside a bakery that Iggy, of all people, had recommended.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Cheeks

As he stood in front of Cake My Day, a bakery a few blocks down from his house, Mickey decided it could be a lot worse. Iggy had told him about it (Mickey didn’t even try to figure out why the fuck Iggy could recommend bakeries off the top of his head), so he had been a bit skeptical. It was a brick building, but not the dirty and worn down brick that made up most of the buildings in the neighborhood. The bricks looked clean and were neatly fit together, and the large windows that looked into the shop and displayed the cakes were free of grime. There was a red and white striped awning, and a white wooden sign swung from it, presenting the name of the bakery in large, red letters. It was…charming, which wasn’t a word Mickey used often, but it was the first one that popped into his head.

A week ago, the brothers had planned Mandy’s birthday party and decided who had to get what. Mickey had gotten stuck with the cake, but he hadn’t been too worried about it; how hard could it be to get a fucking cake? Except Mickey had completely forgotten, and now here he was, the day before the party, standing outside a bakery that _Iggy,_ of all people, had recommended. He sighed as he pushed open the door, cursing himself and hoping that they could have it ready by tomorrow.

A bell jingled when the door opened. The first thing that Mickey noticed was that the shop smelled like fresh vanilla icing, and Mickey had to stop for a second and breathe it in. There was a long counter at the other end of the store with display cases underneath filled with rows of cakes. There was a door behind the counter that led to what Mickey assumed was the kitchen. Nobody was behind the counter; Mickey turned around towards the door, just to check that the sign was flipped to “OPEN”.

It was, so Mickey walked up to the display cases and leaned over the counter. “Hello?” he called, and he jumped a bit when he heard a crash from the kitchen and a muttered, “Shit.”

“Coming!” a man’s voice called, and a few seconds later a tall man in an apron stumbled through the door. He straightened up and dusted himself, and then walked to stand across from Mickey. “How can I help you?”

Mickey couldn’t help but stare. The guy was freakishly tall, and he had dark red hair. He was gorgeous; his jaw looked like it was literally cut from marble, and his green eyes sparkled. Mickey couldn’t really see much of his body under the apron, but he could tell that it was probably pretty fantastic.

Mickey looked up to find the guy smirking. Fighting off a blush, he cleared his throat and said, “I need to order a cake.”

The guy raised an eyebrow and grinned. “I figured,” he said, and after a few seconds of silence he continued, “What kind?”

“Um,” Mickey muttered, and _Jesus Christ, get your shit together, Milkovich._ “Got any with chocolate cake and chocolate fudge icing?” He knew Mandy would like that; she was a total chocoholic.

“We make all the cakes ourselves,” the guy stated. He pointed at the cakes in the display cases. “Those are just to give you an idea of what kind of shape and size and design you want.”

“Oh,” Mickey said, and bent over a little to look a bit closer at the cakes. He pointed at an average-sized round one, with flowers along the edge of the top. “I’ll take that one.”

“Great,” the guy said. “Hold on, let me get an order form.”

He turned around and bent down to grab a box behind him, giving Mickey a spectacular view of his ass. Mickey’s jaw almost dropped, because damn, that was a pretty great ass.

The guy suddenly stood up and turned around. “Got one!” he announced triumphantly, and then he realized Mickey had been staring. He smirked. “Like what you see?” he asked playfully.

Mickey rubbed the back of his neck. “One of the nicer cakes in this place,” he joked, and then clamped his mouth shut because holy shit, did he really just say that?

The guy gave a surprised laugh and looked Mickey up and down. He smiled and gave Mickey a wink. “Not so bad yourself.”

Mickey could feel his cheeks turning red, and he rubbed his thumb across his bottom lip, grinning.

The guy pulled a pen out of his apron. He jotted something down, probably writing which cake Mickey had pointed out, and then looked up. “So,” he said, “chocolate cake and fudge icing?”

Mickey nodded. “Can I get something written on it?”

“Sure thing,” the guy said. “What’ll it be?”

“Happy Birthday Mandy,” Mickey said slowly. “M-A-N-D-Y.”

The guy looked up curiously. “How else would you spell it?”

 Mickey shrugged. “I’ve seen some people spell it with and ‘I’,” he explained.

The guy finished writing down Mickey’s order. “Alright,” he said. “Can I have your name?”

“Mickey Milkovich,” Mickey said, and the guy wrote it down. He looked up and smiled. “Nice to meet you, Mickey. I’m Ian.” They stared at each other for a few seconds before Ian looked away. “When do you need it by?” he asked.

“Tomorrow,” Mickey mumbled. “I know it’s a bit last minute, but I totally forgot that I had to order a cake, and-”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Ian laughed. “Dude, slow down. It’s fine. It’ll definitely be ready by tomorrow morning.” He waved his hand around the shop. “Does it look like we have a lot of orders to fill?”

Mickey looked around at the empty store and smiled. “No,” he said, “I guess not.”

Ian capped the pen and put it down on the counter. “So, Mickey,” Ian started calmly, “you like cake?”

Mickey bit back a grin, trying to keep his face serious. “Oh yeah,” he said, nodding. “All kinds.”

“All kinds?” Ian feigned shock. “What’s your favorite kind?”

“Hm…” Mickey tapped his chin. He looked at Ian and smiled. “Red velvet.”

Ian laughed and touched his hair. “Good one,” he remarked.

Mickey grinned. “I try.”

Ian laughed again. “Oh, one last thing,” he said, picking the pen back up and smirking. “I need your number. Just in case there’s problems with the cake.”

Mickey snorted. “Oh yeah?”

Ian raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, man. I get the feeling you’d really want to know if something bad happened to the cake.”

“Alright, fine,” Mickey laughed. He gave Ian his number, and then before he could stop himself he said, “Why don’t I give you my number?” Ian stared at him. “In case I have any questions about the cake,” Mickey clarified. _Fuck._

Ian beamed. “Great idea,” he said, and before Mickey could stop him he grabbed Mickey’s arm and wrote it down.  

Ian dropped Mickey’s arm and grinned. “Well then,” he said. “See you tomorrow, Mickey Milkovich.” He turned and walked back into the kitchen with the order form.

“Yeah,” Mickey mumbled. “See you tomorrow.”

He was so fucked.

***

That night, Mickey stood in front of the mirror brushing his teeth. He was making faces at himself when his phone rang. Glancing at the screen, he saw that the Caller ID said “Ian”.

Mickey almost dropped his toothbrush in his eagerness to pick up the phone. He shoved his toothbrush in his mouth and grabbed his phone. Unfortunately, he didn’t get a very good grip on it, and because he’s apparently a piece of shit that doesn’t deserve anything good in the world, he got to watch it bounce off the sink and right into the toilet.

For a few seconds he stood there with a blank expression, his toothbrush dangling out his mouth. “Shit,” he finally muttered, and lunged forward to snatch the phone out of the toilet. He frantically pressed the “on” button, but the screen stayed black. He stabbed at it a few more times before he finally surrendered. “Fuck!” he shouted, and then someone started knocking on the door.

“Mickey, you okay?” Mandy shouted through the door.

“Yes, Mandy, Jesus,” Mickey sighed. “You don’t have to fucking shout.”

“I heard you yelling,” Mandy said. “Wanted to make sure you didn’t slip and die or some shit.”

“Well, I didn’t slip and die,” Mickey retorted. He yanked his toothbrush out of his mouth, rinsed it, and shoved it into the holder on the wall.

Mandy was silent for a few seconds. “What did happen then?” she asked, and dammit, Mickey really didn’t want to tell her. He figured she was going to find out at some point though, so he might as well get it over with.

“I dropped my phone in the toilet,” he mumbled.

His sister was quiet on the other side of the door, and then she asked, “What was that, Mick? You were mumbling.”

Mickey glared at the door. “I dropped my phone in the toilet!” he yelled, and for two minutes after that all he could hear was Mandy’s hysterical laughter.

He waited patiently for her to calm down, and when she did he said, “Fuck. You.”

Mandy chuckled again. “It’s a bit funny, Mick.” She tapped her knuckles once on the door and walked away. 

Mickey looked back down at his dark phone screen. “Fuck.”

***

 The next morning, Mickey slowly walked down the street. He wanted to hold off the embarrassment that would inevitably take place at the bakery for as long as he could.

When he reached the front of the shop, he peeked in through the windows. He could see Ian bent over the counter, scribbling something with a pencil. He stood in front of the door for a few minutes, debating whether or not he should go inside at all.

“Get it the fuck together, Milkovich,” Mickey muttered to himself, and he pushed through the door.

Ian look up when he heard the bell, but as soon as he saw Mickey his friendly smile dropped. His lips pressed together, and he threw his pencil onto the counter and stormed off into the kitchen.

Mickey sighed. This was going well.

He waited for a few minutes, hoping Ian would show back up. He did; he stomped back out of the kitchen holding a white box. He dropped the box unceremoniously onto the counter and angrily punched the buttons on the cash register.

“That’ll be $50,” Ian bit out, and Mickey had had enough.

“Listen, man, I didn’t ignore your call on purpose,” Mickey said, and wow, that came out wrong.

Ian apparently thought so too, because he raised his eyebrows and laughed bitterly. “Oh really? Was it some sort of accident? You saw that I called three times and “accidentally” didn’t call me back?”

“Wait, you called me three times?” Mickey asked, thrown off track. He hadn’t thought that Ian liked him that much.

Ian threw his hands in his hair. “Forget it,” he muttered, and made to turn back into the kitchen. “Enjoy your cake.”

“Ian, wait,” Mickey called, and Ian turned back around with his arms crossed and his eyebrows raised.

Mickey let out a breath. “I do actually have a reason why I didn’t pick up.”

Ian raised his eyebrows even higher, if that was possible, but he didn’t say anything.

“I um…” Mickey rubbed the back of his neck. He was going to sound like a total idiot. “I may have accidentally…um.”

Ian looked like he was losing patience, so Mickey just thought, “Fuck it _,_ ”and went for it.

“When you called last night I was brushing my teeth and I when I saw you were calling I was so eager to pick up the damn phone that I dropped it in the fucking toilet. It broke and wouldn’t turn on and that’s why I didn’t answer any of your calls. I didn’t even get them.”

Mickey said it all in rush; he wasn’t even sure if Ian had understood a word of what he said. He stood there chewing on his lip, waiting for Ian to answer. He didn’t know why it mattered to him so much; he didn’t know why he felt so suddenly attracted to Ian, why he so badly needed Ian’s approval, and he decided not to dwell on it.

After a minute, Ian started snickering. “You really dropped your phone in the toilet?” he asked, and when Mickey nodded he started laughing loudly.

Mickey’s knew his face was probably red, and he muttered, “Shut up.”

“Oh, c’mon, Mick!” Ian laughed. “You gotta admit, it’s pretty funny.”

Watching Ian laugh, Mickey couldn’t help but smile. “Alright, it’s a bit funny,” he agreed, and Ian snorted.

Once Ian pulled himself together, he looked Mickey in the eyes. “I’m sorry I freaked out.”

Mickey had to stop himself from grinning. “I’m sorry I dropped my phone in the toilet,” he said solemnly.

That made Ian start laughing again, and this time Mickey laughed with him. They smiled at each other, and then Mickey pointed at the box with the cake.

“You wanna come to my sister’s birthday party tonight?” Mickey waggled his eyebrows. “There’s gonna be booze.”

Ian let out a small laugh. “Well, in that case,” he said, as he looked at Mickey, beaming. “It’s a date.”

**Author's Note:**

> Well this was..interesting.  
> Please excuse the cake jokes.
> 
> Come say hi at carlllgallaghrrr.tumblr.com


End file.
